The Crystal Ship
by uhmm
Summary: "Irene Adler…" His fingers gently touched his cool lips, and, shaking his head, he turned away to leave the ballroom. Oneshot, slightly AU


**Hello! Only me - this is a rewrite of a previous fic called Untitled. It's going to be darker, juicier, and just... better. Hopefully. ;D Big thanks to the wonderful Black1Han1d and fabulous insaneradio... You guys should all check out their stories, they've got some real crackers! But anyhoo, here is the sort of first chapter. They'll hopefully get longer as more and more updates are churned out. **

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The Crystal Ship was a beautiful place.

It was a ballroom in central London, large and terribly grand. Glass chandeliers hung from high rise ceilings, beams of oak wood and old-fashioned wall printings made the ballroom look like it was plucked out of the Victoriana period and placed in the 21st century.

The music was soft; light as a feather, cascading around them like a curtain slowly falling at the end of an opera. It felt so odd, to have her fingers entwined with his own, her warm hand placed on his shoulder, his arm wrapped lightly around her slim waist. She smelt divine; of sweet oranges and fruits - her deep auburn hair was a medley of summer berries. Their feet moved in time, slow and even, eyes locked with each others.

"Why did I ever agree to dancing with you?" He had said under his breath, only loud enough for her to hear.

"Oh, please." She had said, in her mocking tone, "I know you're enjoying it."

"You wish." He chuckled, taking her hand and letting her twirl under his fingers. She came gracefully back into his arms, fitting perfectly into his lithe form.

The music played longer, and the two watched the small orchestra as they swayed to the slow, steady beat. The unmistakable sound of a violin rang through the ballroom, each note played with grace and ease. A woman stood up on stage; chocolate hair tied in a loose bun, curls falling in front of her jade eyes. She took a breath, and the singing began. It was haunting; each note was laced with something deeper than any modern song could achieve, an inner emotion hidden from the average mind.

But the two, dancing so in time with each other, could see past the hazy shawl covering each lyric; there was something that seemed to spark between them as they felt a wave of romanticism echoe through them; it awakened a spirit deep within their souls.

Both pair of eyes were wide as their heartbeats quickened slightly. Her lips seemed so soft, so inviting, scarlet rose petals were parted as she leant in slightly. He was frozen, feet moving subconsciously, fingers slightly tighter as she came closer and - - -

Her lips, once so close to his own, were suddenly gone; instead, her mischievous laugh delicately tickled his ear.

"Do you enjoy teasing me?" He muttered lowly.

"You _want_ a kiss?" She said, "From our past meetings, you've never seemed that eager."

He raised an eyebrow, and she grinned. Glancing towards the solo violinist and soprano, she caught the flash of a smile they shared, and the twinkle of an engagement ring on the singers finger.

"That could be us one day, my love." He winced as she said that; she always called him her love, simply for the purpose of annoying him. "You, playing your violin," She stroked his hardened left fingertips with her own softer hands, "Me, singing. We'd be a glorious couple."

She caught his look of disgust, and laughed freely.

"I despise you." He said, spinning her under his fingers again.

She slammed back into him, a little forcefully. He noted her expression, lips still slightly parted; she was trying to be seductive, and unfortunately, succeeded.

She was just so perfect; how her auburn hair - rusty red like autumn leaves - would fall in gentle waves, and curl at her shoulders. Her eyes twinkled in the light; an indigo sky with baby blue clouds weaved through cobalt crystals, the light from the chandelier looking like a perfect sun in those shiny orbs. A spark of life always hung in them. She reminded him of a gazelle - no, much too innocent. She was like a tigress; elegant, mysterious, deadly but oh so utterly beautiful in her own exotic way.

He realised now her smile had grown. She leant into his ear again, and whispered clearly:

"If you despise me so much, Sherlock, my love, why are you still dancing with me?"

She smiled, her rosy cheeks pinker than they usually were. She stood back, and Sherlock suddenly became aware that the music had finished, and the song had moved onto something more jazzy.

"Until next time?" She asked, cocking her head slightly. He didn't answer, but glared at her with rhinestone eyes. "Until next time." She nodded, answering for him.

"Next time, my _dear_, I will take you into custody, where criminals like you deserve to be." He said, his voice quiet. The woman noticed his eyes were trying not to meet her own.

It was true; she was a criminal. A con-woman, a thief, wanted by several secret services and various ex-flings. It was his job to catch people like her, and he was passionate about it. But there was something about this thief that made his feelings become out of character; something that made him reluctant to get her cast into prison - besides, she would most likely escape within two hours of confinement; she could most certainly be as crafty as a cat when she wanted to be.

But it was through both their careers that they met, and started this odd, not-quite relationship that they shared. The feeling between them was mutual, although they were much too proud to admit it. But what was this feeling? Not love, most certainly not. The way he felt about her would often be bitter, hers slightly teasing and childish - but there were moments in the time they spent together when a spark of _something _would flare. A bubble of romance would often rise up through the floor like hot air and reach their cold feet with a gentle, caressing warmth.

"Oh, Sherlock, my love, you tell me that every time we meet." She said; he could practically hear the smile on her features. He sighed, his eyes closing for what must have been one moment - - -

He felt a pair of lips press hardly on his own; warm and soft, they tasted of cherries. His eyes shot open, wide and full of shock. Hers echoed her laughter, and he felt her grin against his lips.

But, as soon as it had started, she pulled away, leaving a thoughtful smile on her pale face. She said nothing, and turned around. Her pale back and slender arms were visible from her halter dress. The black fabric rippled around her feet; one could only see her slim black shoes as she walked smoothly off the dance floor. She reached the exit, and turned around, auburn curls swishing slightly.

He still stood in the very middle of the dance floor, fingers to his lips, still in shock. She flashed a grin, and turned out the door. He swore he could hear her musical laugh ripple through to him, even though the sound of music and people would've muted it completely.

"Irene Adler…" He whispered. His fingers gently touched his cool lips, and shaking his head, he turned away and left the ballroom.

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**Reviews would be lovely! Let me know if I should continue...**


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